Of Love and Friendship
by Amaya Ramiel
Summary: Sherlock witnesses a tender intimate moment between John and Mary, and ponders about the woman who has stolen John's heart and about John's own reactions to her. Short but hopefully fluffy    .


Disclaimer: Characters belong to Doyle, Moffat, Gatiss, and the BBC, *sigh*

A/N: I've been meaning to write a oneshot that didn't include Mary Watson dying, I feel bad for having her die off screen in a couple of my stories. I also wanted to write Sherlock's reaction to John and Mary's relationship, and after some trials and errors, this is what came out. I hope you guys enjoy it! ^_^.

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><p><span>Of Love and Friendship<span>

Sherlock was about to exit his bedroom when he heard the hushed voices in the living room.

_John and Mary are back_, he realized. He had spent the last three days involved in an arduous case and had simply collapsed from exhaustion. The doctor had half-dragged half-carried him from the couch and deposited him on his bed earlier today before telling him that he would be out later that afternoon on a date with Mary.

Well, they had stopped calling them dates months ago. They were spending their days together more often, just not on a strict 'date' basis. After Sherlock and John had met Mary Morstan and helped solve the mystery regarding her mysterious stalker and her father, she and the doctor had become very friendly with each other. At first they had gone through the traditional romantic dates on weekends, and Sherlock had been certain that it would soon degenerate into one of the romantic messes John typically got himself into.

But Mary had persisted, and their dates had stopped being strictly about romantic interest, and had developed into something more serious. There was none of the nonsense John's dates usually had - the pretending that Sherlock wasn't around and that their work wasn't dangerous; the pretending that both parties were actually interested in more than just sex and the empty 'dating' promises. No, those had stopped early on with Mary.

She would often be at Baker Street, simply for the pleasure of enjoying their company, and she wouldn't be trying to drag John away to some romantic setting. To Sherlock's surprise, she seemed to genuinely enjoy chatting about their work, accompanying them on cases, and then sitting on the couch watching crap telly with John.

The worst part was that Sherlock couldn't hate her; whenever she was around she was actually interesting. Mary was far more complex than John's run-of-the-mill girlfriends, and she constantly surprised Sherlock with some comment or observation. In addition she didn't seem to want to make John choose between herself and Sherlock, which the detective had to admit made him a little suspicious. He was very jealous of John's attention. As he had told him once, genius craves an audience, and he didn't like sharing John, so he couldn't quite understand how she didn't try to hoard him all to herself. Mary seemed entirely content with John going off for days on some case with Sherlock and when he returned, she didn't demand that he take her to fancy restaurants or to the theatre. Instead, she would come over, eat takeout with them, relate her latest adventures and hardships at the school in which she worked, and then tell John to hurry up typing the case up so she could read it.

On top of everything, he couldn't hate her because he enjoyed her company as well, _blast the woman_! True, sometimes she and John would get into excited discussions about films and books that for which he didn't care one iota, and she had actually started 'mothering' him, telling him to eat properly and clean the kitchen once in a while, but she was kind and insightful. Sherlock wanted to hate her very much, and if there was any fault in Mary Morstan was that she made herself into an 'unhateable' friend. She was a lot like John in that regard, full of commonness and compelling complexity at the same time.

It almost scared Sherlock a little; All of John's previous girlfriends had been brainless twats who's only purpose was to be 'girlfriends', but Mary was entirely the opposite. She had become a friend more than just a 'girlfriend', and Sherlock had seen the look that lit John's eyes when he looked at her. It wasn't mild interest, it wasn't a hope to get laid that night, it wasn't settling for anything that came along, it was happiness.

Only the week before, the three of them had been sitting in the living room - Sherlock at the table supposedly updating 'The Science of Deduction', John in his chair and Mary on the sofa, her feet folded under her in a comfortable pose. They had been laughing uproariously about Mycroft's latest visit, cracking jokes and making snappy comments about the man who personified the British Government. Mary had met him on several occasions when she accompanied them on a case, and she had been just as unimpressed by his attempts at intimidation as John had been.

Sherlock had seen John wiping tears from his eyes when he suddenly caught the doctor contemplating the woman across from him with a strange look in his eyes. John's eyes had a bright gleam in them that had nothing to do with laughing. It was as though he was realizing something about her for the first time. The detective saw it, and he knew what it meant.

Now Sherlock stood by his bedroom door, holding it slightly ajar, as he peered at the couple sitting on the sofa. They obviously thought that Sherlock wouldn't be up for a while, because the detective had never seen them display such intimate signs of affection before, and he doubted they would if they thought he was bound to burst in on them at any moment.

Mary's legs were draped over John's lap, her hands gently resting on his chest, while he stroked her cheek softly with his hand. Slowly, Sherlock saw through the crack in the door, John closed the distance between them and lightly pressed his lips against hers, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against hers, their eyes closed as though they were simply enjoying the feel of being close to one another.

Sherlock had seen John with other women before, whenever John didn't know he was being watched. He wasn't the type to be slow and tender; he wasn't rough or demanding in any way, but neither had he seemed inclined to go for this level of sentimentality. Watching them, Sherlock's eyes widened as he considered that John was almost hesitant right now, as though he were in unexplored territory. But he had been with countless women before, including Mary, so why should he be hesitating now?

John pulled back slightly and took Mary's right hand, caressing it momentarily before holding it close to his heart. She brought her left hand up to John's face, cupping his cheek and slowly tracing her thumb across it, her eyes full of emotion.

John exhaled shakily, leaning in again to rest his forehead against hers once more, and then Sherlock heard it, the half whispered declaration, spoken breathlessly as though it was the truest statement ever spoken.

"_I love you."_

The moment he said it her eyes flew open, pulling back a little to look in his eyes.

"Oh John," she whispered, her left hand still caressing his cheek gently, _"My John. My dearest wonderful John."_ Her eyes sparkled, Sherlock saw, and a soft laugh escaped her lips, echoed almost instantly by John.

"I love you." He repeated, a smile growing on his face, "I love you." The phrase came to his lips easier each time, like he was reveling in the fact that he could say it.

He placed his own hand on top of hers, still holding her other hand against his chest.

"My Mary." John laughed again, before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers once more, this time slightly more insistently.

Sherlock closed his eyes in defeat. He had known this was coming eventually; he hadn't been able to dismiss the looks between them, the smiles and the gentle touches. And worst of all, he couldn't fault either of them; they _were_ perfect for each other, and he himself had almost felt exasperated that it took John so long to realize he was in love. Oh, Mary had known for months now that she loved him; although she had tried to keep it to herself, Sherlock knew she knew. But for John, it was as though he hadn't realized he was falling for her. The doctor may profess to know more about feelings and human emotions than Sherlock, but when it came to his own, he seemed just as oblivious, if not more.

Regardless, now they all knew; it was inevitable, but what did it mean for their future, the detective didn't know. Sighing, Sherlock turned back to his room and, being uncharacteristically thoughtful and caring, made some random noises that would inform the lovebirds in the living room that he was awake. When he exited the room this time, the two of them were lying back innocently on the couch; Mary nestled against John's chest with his arm wrapped around her as he flipped through the channels looking for something to watch.

As Sherlock passed them with a grunted greeting, collapsing on his chair with a huff, he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the couple's antics, as well as suppress the sudden impulse to genuinely smile at their happiness.

The End

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><p>AN: Very short, and maybe a bit occ, but sweet, I hope. Cheers everyone!


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